


Creature of the Night

by alternatealto



Category: House M.D.
Genre: Fluff, Humor, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-10-29
Updated: 2014-10-29
Packaged: 2018-02-23 01:57:05
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,517
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2529773
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/alternatealto/pseuds/alternatealto
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Strange things happen on Halloween.  Especially if you're Wilson.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Creature of the Night

**Author's Note:**

> (Originally posted to my LJ in 2011. It just seems appropriate for the time of year!)

**Creature of the Night**  
  
  
 _Skritch, rustle.  
  
Rattle, rustle, rustle, thump.  
  
Clunk. Thunk, bang. Rustle._  
  
It took House a moment to remember that he was home again, on his own sofa: evidently he’d switched off the TV before falling asleep, so the noises he was hearing weren’t coming from there. In fact, they seemed to be coming from the – chimney?  Or rather the flue, since it was a gas fireplace.  
  
 _Bang, clunk.  Chitter, skritch, rustle, bang._  
  
Curious, he got up and moved closer to the unlit fireplace.  He had no idea what time it was, but it was late enough that he didn’t hear trick-or-treaters in the street any more.  Enough light came in from an outside street light that he didn’t bother turning on a lamp. He stood in front of the hearth, listening to the odd noises.  
  
 _Thunk. Clang, rustle, skritch, chitter, rustle._  
  
And a final, triumphant, _flop_.  
  
The small and rather sooty brown bat that had landed on top of the fake logs took a moment to orient itself, and then launched into flight, just barely clearing House’s head (he ducked instinctively), before sailing silently around the room.  It made two circuits before flipping upside-down and neatly hanging itself from the top of the living room cornice, its ears swivelling and the tiny fox-like face wearing what would have looked like a smile if House had felt anthropomorphic.  
  
Great.  
  
On the one hand, House had nothing against bats, in their place.  On the other hand, their place was outdoors, not in his living room. And bats in New Jersey were known to carry rabies, so trying to catch this one and put it outside was probably not a good idea. He could open a window and hope it took the hint, but if it was rabid it might decide to attack him anyway.  
  
Which really only left one option.  
  
He switched on the light next to the sofa, then slowly reached for his cane. If the bat stayed still, one good hard swat ought to –  
  
“House,” the bat said in Wilson’s voice, “don’t _even_.”  
  
 _What the hell?!_  
  
He probably said it aloud – he definitely jumped backwards a couple of feet.  
  
“It took me _forever_ to find this place by echolocation, and there is _no way_ I’m going to let you flatten me with your cane after all that.”  
  
There was no getting around it – the bat sounded like Wilson.  A bit high-pitched, admittedly, but still Wilson’s voice.  This, House decided, was Not Fair.  He’d had one lousy beer while he waited for Wilson to come over, and if one Budweiser could give him hallucinations two – he glanced at the clock – no, _three_ hours after he’d drunk it, he was going to write a stiff letter to Anheuser-Busch.  
  
On the other hand, maybe he’d just buy several thousand shares of their stock.  
  
“House?” the bat said.  “You . . . um, you _can_ hear me, can’t you?”  
  
“Yeah,” House admitted cautiously.  “But I seem – ”  
  
“Oh, good,” the bat cut him off.  “You wouldn’t believe how hard it is to talk in the ordinary human hearing range, I feel like I’m bellowing from the bottom of my chest, here.”  It started to groom one wing.  
  
“Wilson – ”  
  
“And my ar – my _wings_ – feel like they’re about to fall off.  Flying is a _lot_ harder than it looks.”  
  
“Wilson.  I think we need – ”  
  
“And mosquitoes are _nasty!_   They all taste like blood, which is just disgusting.”  
  
“ _Wilson_.”  
  
The bat paused in its fastidious grooming.  “What?”  
  
“You’re a bat.”  
  
“Yes.”  
  
“A _bat_.”  
  
“House, would you quit pointing out the obvious?  I _know_ I’m a bat! Why do you think I’m _here?_ ”  
  
“I . . . thought we were supposed to be getting together for Mexican and beer and monster trucks.”  
  
The bat managed to look embarassed.  “Um. Right. Look, House, I was planning to be here a lot earlier than this, but an old woman and a little girl came to the door just as I was leaving; they had these really elaborate Gypsy costumes.  They yelled ‘Trick or Treat’, and I went to get them some candy.  I hadn’t had many kids come by, so since I was leaving anyway I told them they could have the whole bowlful.”  
  
“Hey, you could’ve brought some over here!”  
  
“I’ll buy you another bag some time, if I can ever use money again.  Would you listen to me?  The little girl was just thrilled; I guess they hadn’t had much luck at the other apartments in my building.  So the old lady told me she wanted to give me something in exchange.  Then she grabbed me by the shoulders and – and blew into my mouth. Her breath smelled . . . funny.  Not bad, just weird.”  
  
 _Weird_ , House thought, _is the word for this whole evening._  
  
“And – ?” he prompted, when Wilson didn’t continue.  
  
“And . . . and then she said, ‘This will give you what your heart wants most.  Fly, little one, and find it.’  The next thing I knew, I was coming to on the floor in the hall, and I was . . . like this.”  
  
“Wow.”  
  
“House, you have to help me!”  
  
“I’ll run out and get some mealworms first thing tomorrow.”  
  
“ _House!_ ”  
  
“What do you think _I_ can do?  I’m a diagnostician, not a – whatever we need here.”  
  
“Great.  If you can’t help me, then I’m stuck like this for the rest of my life.  How long do bats live, anyway?”  
  
“A couple of years, I think.”  
  
The bat covered its head with its wings.  “I could drop dead tomorrow then, for all we know,” it said, its voice muffled by wing membrane.  
  
House’s leg was beginning to ache, and he was getting a crick in his neck from craning his head back to look at the bat on the cornice above him.  “Look,” he said, “I’m going to sit down.  Could you . . . find some place to hang out that isn’t so high up?”  
  
“Being close to the ground makes me nervous for some reason,” Wilson admitted, “but I’ll try.”  
  
He settled on hanging upside down from one of the bookshelves near the sofa.  House sat and watched him for a few minutes, as fascinated by the way Wilson’s ears never stopped turning in all directions as by the quick, neat way he was using his tongue to tidy his fur and remove the soot stains he’d accumulated in the flue.  
  
“Well?” Wilson asked, when his fur was finally clean enough to suit him, “Any ideas? I can’t stay here too much longer – I’m starving, and I can tell I’m going to have to go find another couple dozen mosquitoes soon.  Euch.”  
  
Even a disgusted expression was cute on that tiny face, House noted.  “You seem to have adjusted to this pretty fast,” he observed.  
  
“I didn’t have much choice in the matter, did I?”  
  
“I guess not.”  
  
“Isn’t there _anything_ you can think of to try?”  
  
“I told you before, I’m a diagnostician, not a – a witch doct – ”  He broke off.  
  
Witch doctors.  
  
Witches.  
  
Spells.  
  
No.  No, it couldn’t be something _that_ simple.  
  
Could it?  
  
“House?  House, I recognize an epiphany when I hear one!  Tell me!”  
  
“It’s irrational.”  
  
“And being a bat is rational?  I’ll try anything at this point, if only because the carrier hum from your television is driving me crazy.”  
  
What the hell.  “You’re going to have to come over here,” House told him.  
  
“Okay,” Wilson detached himself from the bookshelf and swooped the short distance to House, who held up a finger just in time for his friend to grasp it.  
  
“I’m going to lay you down on the palm of my right hand,” House told him.  The bat looked nervous, but didn’t struggle as he carefully released it from his finger.  
  
House looked down at the little creature on his palm.  Then, carefully, he bent his head and kissed the tiny muzzle.  A second later, his hand, his lap, and his sofa were full of a very large, very startled, and very naked Wilson.  
  
A naked _human_ Wilson.  
  
“It worked!” Wilson bellowed, still used to having to shout to make himself audible.  “My god, House, it _worked!_ ”  
  
“Yeah,” House wheezed.  Having a nude Wilson abruptly materialize on his diaphragm had left him without much else to say, for a number of reasons.  
  
Wilson, still lying in House’s lap, smiled brilliantly up at his friend.  “I knew you could do it!” he said more quietly.  “Thanks, House.”  
  
“I figured it probably had to work,” House said.  “After all, it’s the traditional cure for cases like that.”  
  
Wilson smiled even more brilliantly. There was a glint in his eye House hadn’t seen before, and without warning he reached up to wrap an arm around House’s neck and pull his head down.  “Let's do it one more time,” he suggested, “Just to make sure it sticks.”  
  
Kissing Wilson like this was a _lot_ better than kissing a bat, House decided.  He was suddenly breathless all over again.  
  
“I think she got it right,” Wilson whispered when they finally let go of each other.  “What do you think?”  
  
“I think,” House said, “you owe me a bag of candy.”

 

 


End file.
